Oh Edgar

For what is it to dream? 

Poe brilliantly uses these words as a comparison, both completely reliant upon the other; disastrous apart. Perhaps, a paradox of sorts. 

To dream by day 

Setting goals or reaching for a destination of hope while being completely aware in a fully conscious state.

One is in control, focused with their eyes upon their target. Detours may be expected but the course can be rerouted or adjusted.

To dream by night 

The subconscious mind assembles images or thoughts that play out in a state of complete slumber.

You’re a backseat driver to a message that may play out jumbled or strange. These dreams are almost never literal they need to be interpreted differently and could steer people down the wrong path. Sometimes we don’t remember our dreams at all.

Edgar expresses the importance of daydreaming. The emphasis of hope hides within the text; for to set goals in life, gives us purpose. The two really do go hand in hand: to aspire that which shall strengthen one in a state of awareness; will in turn, provide dreams in sleep that will give you peace. 


The word dream comes from middle to old English, which derives from Germanic, Dutch, Old Norse and more. 

The middle-old English related dream to joy, pleasure, gladness, even music, to name a few; however Proto-Indo Europe relates  dream to illusion something injurious, or even damaging. 

Clearly our ancestors knew and understood, what Poe expresses. 

These are the words that come to thought: “To dream blindly, is to run in darkness toward the unknown edges of consequence.” 

Once again 

Be at peace 

Dream big 

Reach for your stars 

Be yourself 




Ten Quote Tuesday Writing Prompt: “I don’t remember my birthdays.”

Here are the choices:

Writing Prompts

  • Include all these elements into a scene: sports tickets, a candle, discouragement, and drawing.
  • Have a scene with a self-conscious politician.
  • Start your scene with this line: I don’t remember my birthdays.

Here is the original post for the writing prompts: http://ryanlanz.com/2015/01/13/ten-quote-tuesday-23/comment-page-1/#comment-4941

I drew inspiration for the protagonist from my own loss. My Mom passed in 2010.

          I don’t remember my birthdays anymore. I’ve left them behind the day the woman who gave me life was gone. What good would this day do me; if all it did was remind me of her? I lay in bed trying to avoid every person who knew this day once existed. Why did they feel the need to torture me with their joy? Their smiles burned holes in my soul like acid. I just want to sleep until tomorrow; I’ll come out of my cave when this pain has passed over me.
They can have the cake; the wishes; even the god damn balloons. They are the ones who want that stuff anyway. “Go ahead, eat your fucking cake, and blow out the damn candles.” You can take this day as your own, then you’ll have two days to celebrate. Please don’t search for me, I never sent an S.O.S.
Curled in a ball like a fetus again with the blankets over my head to drown the sun; I can see her image in my mind. She smiles at me, and I could hear her voice so clear. “Happy Birthday.” Oh this mind has become my enemy too; it won’t let me forget the memories of you. I do not wish to surrender to this joy. Why are you trying to make me feel? The numbness is what has kept me alive. To feel is to remember, and I do not want to go to that place again.
Slumber calls me after the agony of existing awake on this god forsaken day. Sleep gives me peace, it is the only place I am free from everything. The clouds dance in the sky above; while the birds sing in harmony. I sit in the sun alone, I am free. I rise to my feet, and run. I run so fast like I was late for something but I didn’t know what.
Awake so suddenly to the sound of birds singing outside the window. Alas, the day has passed. I made it again! I don’t know how long I can keep this up but for now I will take this success. I can live beyond the day that once connected us two. Never, will you find me celebrating apart from the woman who gave me life. That was our day, a day she loved to remember.

Written By: Josette Hansen
Pseudonym Adinah Schramm
Copyright ©




Fields of cotton fill the sky; their
Image welcomes all who pass by
Reminiscent of slumber, soft
Pillows float above me; I close
My eyes, and send my dreams to

Written by: Josette Hansen
Pseudonym Adinah Schramm
Copyright ©

Ancestral Dreams III

     The night slowly faded as she lay in bed awake; trying to conjure sleep but it wouldn’t come. It had been one of those unsettling days; leaving her with business to contemplate in her mind. She breathed deep closing her eyes, focusing on her shield. She always did this to help her relax, and feel grounded.
     She found herself in darkness, and all sound was absent. It was a peaceful place, very relaxing. She wasn’t afraid; yet she thought it strange that normally she would be. Mist began to rise in the darkness, and she walked slowly in the darkness.
     She now realized that she was barefoot, and walking in soil. It must have been night because the air smelled like it. She could always read times, and seasons just from her senses. It felt so comforting to be alone for a while.
     She can not recall what happened next but a vision of dirt flashed in her mind. The voice of a woman whispered a familiar name in her ear. She knew she should be afraid but she wasn’t. The spirit of a woman flashed before her, placing her face in hers. The name of a location was shouted.
     She jumped from her bed fully awake writing down details, and beginning research. After a break, and a walk she set herself down to search more. A document was located revealing the name from her dream, and the same location. It was the burial place of her second great grandmother.
     She grabbed her chest rising from her seat speechless. She looked to her daughters whom she told the dream to earlier that morning. They were just as speechless. She knew this was the start of something amazing.

Ancestral Dreams II

     Her day was long, and she was beginning to grow weary. She finished off a cup of hot chamomile to sooth her. She now lay in her bed in meditative prayer. She drifted slowly into a deep sleep.
     She entered a brick building that appeared antique. Upon entering she could smell the old wood, and musty odors lingered. The mantle was empty except for one clock that stood in the center. The clocks hands didn’t appear to be moving; yet she could still hear a distinct ticking sound. An older man stood in the center of the room, his back turned to her. He turned suddenly telling her to go outside.
     She found herself standing below the front windows of the house, next to the stairs. There was soil, grass, and stones. The old man stood on the stairs pointing to the stones. She knelt down slowly dusting the stones off, and she felt carvings. There were the letters one on top of the next spelling out her Grand Uncles name. She realized the old man now knelt beside her. She could see a familiar hand symbol upon a decagon, carved into the stone. “I know this symbol.” She said to the man but he covered it with his hands. The second time she looked it wasn’t a hand symbol she knew.
     She lay her head upon the stone and could suddenly feel her Grand Uncle. It was as if she was plugged into him. She felt his sorrow, and now his joy that she was there. Her tears flowed upon the rock; as she told him. “I’m here uncle, I found you.” The presence of a woman appeared behind her. She turned to see the woman who appeared as a spirit.
     She was led to a single standing stone within a circle. The woman did not speak; yet she knew they were related. The stone had names written upon it. She did not know the names but she knew they were her ancestors. She could feel them all around her, and she felt their love.
     She woke up to write down the symbols. She knew the search for the answers would be long but she did not want to give up. She had to find her Grand Uncle, even if it took a lifetime….

Ancestral Dreams I

Written by: Josette M Hansen
Pseudonym: Adinah Schramm
All work is protected by copyright©2014

     She lay her head down after a long day that night, and closed her fatigued eyes. Slumber was delayed for some time by her restless mind. She emptied herself in meditative prayer; making her peace with the divine, and her ancestors too. Sleep had come upon her, peacefully she drifted into a comfortable place.
     Rays of light shone in the distance like a tunnel of sunbeam reflections. Vibrant hues danced in circles around her as she walked through them. A silhouette at the end of the tunnel waited for her. A uniform came into view as he stepped forward. “Grandfather?” She had never met him before, he died nine years before she was born. All that she had ever seen was a photo. His face was just as handsome.
     His embrace was gentle, and comforting. He looked into her eyes, palms upon her cheeks. They both had tears spilling from their eyes. “It is I.” He stepped back taking a good look at her. “We are all together here. Your Mom, your Uncles all of us. We are very proud of you, and your sisters.”
     She had so many questions to ask him but she knew time was short. “I need help, I keep having dreams about family. I don’t know what some of them mean, and the symbols.” He placed his hands on hers. “Don’t worry, you’ll have help.” He whispered softly.
     She realized she was in between sleep, and consciousness. She now had fallen into a deep sleep. She was on a journey to find her sick Mother. There was a mysterious man with her. They searched every floor of a building, traveling on elevators. When they were told she was taken, they some how were transported to a strange road surrounded by trees.
     The road seemed never ending. She stood next to a young boy. The man was now a child. They were traveling as if in haste. It was as if they were hunted. A lumber truck stopped on the road. The driver got out, and moved pieces of lumber to hide the boy. Her consciousness beginning to make a connection. She was jolted from her sleep.
     She remembered her Grandfather worked in a lumber yard. Searching her records frantically, she found the right one. Her mouth hung open in shock. Her Grand Uncle was the lumber truck driver. It must have been him helping her. What did it mean? She did not yet know but she would search. She would find the answers.

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